


Drop a Dime

by lunacrowne



Category: B.A.P, K-pop
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Crime Drama, Distrust, M/M, Organized Crime, Rats, References to Drugs, all the cameos, block b - Freeform, cop/handler!Youngjae, informant/exconman!Daehyun, informant/handler relationships, informants and cops au, myname - Freeform, rest of BAP as cops, secret, stings
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-03-04
Updated: 2015-05-31
Packaged: 2018-03-15 19:16:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,136
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3458759
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lunacrowne/pseuds/lunacrowne
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After living a life on lies, former conman Jung Daehyun spends these days telling somewhat truths.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Phone booths were rather hard to find these days in the bustling city of Seoul, with everyone sporting cell phones and whatnot. Daehyun, fortunately, knew where to find them, and it was a good thing he did, because it made his job all the more easier.

He currently finds himself at a phone booth in an empty subway station, dropping a dime in more ways than one. He mutters a slight curse as he fumbles with the rest of the change in his pocket, a familiar dial tone resonating through his ears.

“Yoo.” A modulated voice speaks from the other end.

“I got a name for a kingpin from a drug buy. He’s apparently been in the neighborhood for a while but had other small-fry dealers operating under him,” Daehyun breathes, habitually looking over his shoulder as he tells one of his handlers, Officer Yoo Youngjae, the name in encrypted speech.

“Great work, we’ve been trying to sting him for ages. We’ll let you know if we need more information.”

“Okay,” Daehyun glances at the phone’s display--the screen flashes that Daehyun’s time is nearly up, and that he needs to insert more coins.

“We—I’ll contact you soon, alright? Just…stay safe, Daehyun.” There is a soft exhale and the call disconnects.

Hanging up the phone, Daehyun mouths the officer’s words to himself silently and smiles. Giving the area one last glance, he climbs up the stairs and decides to grab a quick bite at the new diner that opened up before heading home.

A couple of times he stilled while he was enjoying his meal, when his eyes caught some faces outside the window that reminded him of the dealers he encountered the day before, in the past. But their faces eventually distorted in the glass and he resumed his chewing indifferently.

It was lonely being in this line of work, if it could even be called work, and though the thrill was still there he had to admit it was no longer a thrill he enjoyed.

Amongst the bustle of the diner the waitress forgets to collect his bill when he smiles at her. Thumbing the edges of his coffee cup, Daehyun reminds her though it would’ve been easy to slip away. He pulls his face mask up over his nose and decides to head home a different way today. It was always good to change up his routine after all.

\----------

Not all the things in the world are won over by force. Sometimes a charming smile and a few lies gets you more.

Daehyun grew up a son from a modest farming family in the countryside of Busan, where he spent his childhood impoverished with barely enough money to take the train to school and buy his daily lunch, let alone participate in the fun things other kids in his class did, such as visit the arcade in the middle of the city. When most people think back to their early school years and remember childhood, all Daehyun remembers are the taunts flung at him for being so beggar-like and asking for food all the time; the sting of tears he felt each time comments were made regarding his worn shoes. His parents could do nothing of course, because they struggled to keep the roof above their heads.

When the outlook of their financial situation didn’t improve as the years went by, Daehyun knew his future beyond high school would be bleak. So he took matters into his own hands.

He was sure that with all the things he lacked in life, the one thing he had plenty of was the gift of speech. And with that gift, it took him little time to gain finesse in the ways of fraud.

 

It was easy to get your way when you left people no room for argument, no chance of protest—they assumed you’re right, they gave you what you wanted without thinking it through, and in the next moment before they could even _blink_ , you’re gone. 

It helped also when puberty smoothened out his features and stabilized his voice with a honeyed tone. His words were more believable then. With a nice face and voice, nothing could've stopped him.

His parents were so deliriously happy to get cash to pay for the next month of living, they never thought twice about the methods in which he got the money.

“Raise at work,” he would say, hiding the smirk that formed at the corner of his lips.

When he had moved on from dropping wallets and mastered the art of persuading successful bank transfers, Daehyun thought it the right time to leave the city of his youth behind.

 

“I got an offer to work at a firm in Seoul—I don’t know how but I did it,” he had beamed effortlessly at his parents as he palmed a forged letter and the rest of his savings in their hands. They were so awestruck with the bills that they didn’t notice when he slipped away, suitcase barely filled.

He had used his money to travel to Seoul, but instead of college he invested in suits and fancy dinners, targeting bigger fish—rich, upper class clientele— and conned his way up. It was a lonely, albeit thrilling lifestyle for the short while he had it. But he got greedy-- bored, he supposed--and when he started dipping his hands into drug fraud to advance his career, he had been caught when a deal went sour and ratted him out.

Though Daehyun never expected to be caught, he had prepared himself for the end since the beginning, knowing that what he had considered a career out of desperation to be the sentencer of his guilt. But even so, he hadn’t slipped out on the chance to rat out a couple of others for the price of his freedom, no matter how much of a leash it brought. He was better than most at snitching, and the Seoul Police Department Narcotics Division kept him solely for that reason. 

\---------

“See? You’ve already changed, Jung. You’re on the right track to redeeming yourself with every dealer you help bust,” the bass voice of Officer Bang Yongguk repeats through the speaker the same thing it would always tell Daehyun after his reports, and Daehyun can almost envision the gummy smile on the other end.

He always found it awkward talking to Officer Bang, let alone be around him in person, perhaps because the older cop was always genuinely going on and on about justice and believing every “badman”, as he called criminals, could change for the better.

The man had so much faith in him, Daehyun felt ashamed sometimes, wondering if he could ever meet the officer’s expectations.

He shifts around in the phone booth as Officer Bang pries him for more information regarding the kingpin he reported the other day to prepare for a sting operation, and his mind wanders off to another officer.

 

There are things that Daehyun doesn’t understand despite having had intricate plans down to a tee, like how he had managed to slip up and get arrested after years of fraud, and finds it better off not trying to understand. 

Officer Yoo… _Youngjae_ …was one of these things and Daehyun honestly didn’t know how to describe him otherwise. Though he was the younger cop, Youngjae was more jaded with the world, viewing everything with gritty realism and observing everything with a sharp tongue. He was smart and well-educated, young and beautiful, with a dedication to law enforcement. He made no errors in his calculations, and used information Daehyun provided to guarantee arrests with an accuracy even veteran officers envied.

Underneath that façade of perfection, Daehyun wondered how Youngjae could ever make such a mistake and fall in so deep with someone like himself."—We’ll call you once everything goes through,” Officer Bang’s voice drones into Daehyun’s reverie, and he thinks that he's surely screwed up his chances at meeting his expectations.

\---------

Though he tries hard to not be a con except when it comes to informant work, Daehyun still finds himself haggling with the elderly owner of the _ddeokboki_ stand, or subtly persuading those with the better quality hanwoo beef for an exchange at the supermarket, but that is a habit hard to break. He was frugal. Everyday was a good enough reason to be frugal.

 

“People are allowed to be frugal,” he tells Youngjae as he shovels _ddeokboki_ into his mouth while the officer looks on with a quirked eyebrow, afraid for him dirtying the upholstery of the unmarked sedan they are meeting in today.

"I'm sure they are," Youngjae remarks dryly over the manila envelope in his hand. “As you may have noticed, Officer Bang is not present today. Honestly, I don’t even know why Yongguk or the department would be concerned that I’m meeting you alone today. Do they seriously think a glutton like you would need to be monitored by more than one person at a time? Thank god I’m the only one here to witness your embarrassment,” he scoffs, but Daehyun picks up the affectionate undertone in his voice. 

Wiping sauce from his mouth, Daehyun smirks. “How can you be so sure I’m not harmless, though? But …it sure seems like you _like_ being alone with me, officer.”

 

Youngjae shakes his head and laughs. “You wish.”

They look at each other for a moment, and Daehyun feels a warm feeling in his chest as he enjoys their close proximity.

The moment passes, and Youngjae glances out the tinted windows, returning to his professional tone.

“It was a successful sting. Here’s your compensation.” He hands Daehyun a wad of bills, bigger than the previous ones he received.

“Is there something I should know?” Daehyun asks out of curiousity, hiding his disappointment at how the bills are dropped into his palm in a detached way. He tucks the bills away neatly into his coat.

“I can’t say. He’s just busted.” 

“Alright. Have a good day, officer.” Daehyun makes the motions to leave, discarded _ddeokboki_ container in hand, when he is pulled back by the arm and a fleeting kiss is placed on his lips.

 

“Will you be going straight home, Daehyun?” Youngjae asks with his back turned.

“Yeah.”

Youngjae gives him a familiar look and Daehyun slides the door closed behind him.

\---------

He really didn’t know when they had crossed the boundary to become something more, when one of Youngjae’s night rounds to his apartment (because Officer Bang had a wife and kid to attend to (“Junhong’s a growing toddler who needs his father there as much as possible,”) and Youngjae happened to live alone) ended up with him sliding next to Daehyun in bed, just holding him as they silently listened to the raindrops against his bedroom window. They never said a word about… _this_ , whatever it was, to each other and Daehyun found his mouth uncharacteristically dry and soundless anyways.

Daehyun knew it would be more than frowned upon, _downright condemned_ , if anyone found out he sought companionship with his handler on the side. Officer Yoo Youngjae was the only officer relatable to him in age, the only officer who didn’t treat him like some kid or an expendable playing piece in the grand scheme of things, as if he wasn’t even human.

But the touch of the other seemed to make up for everything that had gone wrong in his life, and the moments when they melded against each other under cover of darkness, when Youngjae’s pale limbs were indiscernible from his own caramel colored ones— well Daehyun would be lying if said he didn’t feel anything for the other man.

 

He liked to believe that lonely people just needed another body to ease the wave that came crashing down upon them from time to time. It’s more simple that way after all.

It was a knee-jerk reaction to still in Youngjae’s arms, just relishing the feeling of being held, and talking about simple things that friends would converse about, not handlers and informants. Daehyun didn’t dare think of the term lovers.

 

Knowing where they stood in the waking world, and yet partaking in a relationship that shouldn’t be, just confused him.

 

Youngjae shows up at his door tonight quietly, a beautifully distraught face wearing the crumpled husk of a uniform. Daehyun doesn’t protest when he pushes him towards the bedroom without a word. 

 

“It’s not something I can put up with, a human can put up with, you know--treating someone else like they’re not human, only to get the job done,” Youngjae growls against Daehyun’s lips, gripping his shirt hard.

“Isn’t what’s happening right now just that? Using each other, to not feel lonely?” Daehyun asks in between breaths, not sure where the question was directed.

Youngjae looks at Daehyun with an unreadable expression in the dark of the room, and clambers off of him in haste, retreating to the edge of Daehyun’s bed. He buries his face in his hands, the unbuttoned uniform splayed open and exposing his skin in the moonlight.

“I’m losing focus, goddamn it, I…” Youngjae sighs.

“What difference does it make, Youngjae? They got some charge against them only because they committed some crime in the first place. They’re informants. I’m an informant.”

When Youngjae doesn’t reply, Daehyun eases over to him, wrapping unsure hands around the man’s form.

 

“No, you’re Daehyun.”

Kisses make them cast away logical thoughts and scratch at each other’s skin, as if to reveal the secrets, the answers, that were hidden beneath the surface.

 

They cling together in the darkness of the room, wedged comfortably, though stickily against each other. 

“Can you tell me what’s wrong?” Daehyun takes the opportunity to ask as his hands knead along the other’s lower back, hearing a small hiss when he presses too hard near the tailbone.

“Nothing’s wrong.” Youngjae refuses to look at him, burying his nose into the crook of Daehyun’s neck.

“It’s no fair, I tell you everything, you know, Youngjae. Especially you.”

“And you could easily be lying, Daehyun.”

"People change,"

Daehyun says with a frown, feeling a familiar hurt sting in his chest. Distrust was something he brushed off easily but he doesn't know why he feels the need to be so defensive against Youngjae at this moment, when the other is already stripped bare for him with his gun placed carelessly on Daehyun’s bedside table.

“What are we, Youngjae?” He asks the question they didn’t want to hear the answer to.

“Whatever you want us to be. Everything. Nothing.” His voice is muffled but the vibrations travel along Daehyun’s throat.

Daehyun looks down at the dark bangs covering Youngjae's pristine face. “Something. I want this to be something,” It was a somewhat truth.

Youngjae doesn’t answer, and when Daehyun wakes up in the morning to find him gone, he palms his forehead thinking about what the answer would’ve been. 

It wasn’t Youngjae who had made the mistake, it was himself.

 

\---------

Youngjae doesn't contact him, or come to his apartment again for the next few weeks. It's a bit strange to him and he's surprised that Officer Bang doesn't mention anything either. Daehyun finds further information to be sparse in the meantime, leaving him no reason to contact the younger officer. After all, the closest thing to a relationship he had with the handler was just...mutual companionship in the nights. And he wasn’t sure if there would be in the future, based on Youngjae’s cryptic expressions.

 

Daehyun dumps the second mug of coffee he had prepared into the sink, fixating on the whirl of dark liquid going down the drain when he hears an engine revving outside. He approaches the door, heart beating in anticipation for Youngjae when he hears instead his front windows shattering from an impact. Whoever it was outside was not the officer he was expecting, and his eyes begin to water as he realizes the gas from a smoke bomb is spreading steadily through his kitchen. 

 

He grabs a dish towel hanging from the oven handle and places it over his nose and mouth, alarm rising in his chest as he searches for the emergency kit containing all of his documents and a police-issued decoy cellphone. He quietly scrambles towards the back window of the bathroom when a second smash can be heard in the living room. In a final burst of adrenaline, he heaves himself out of the window, tumbling outside the flat and rolling under the back steps into the cluster of foliage. 

 

Lying in the darkness for what seems like an eternity before the sounds directly above him cease and the screech of wheels fade into the distance, Daehyun releases a shaky breath and dials for help on his decoy cellphone.

“Hey, uh… _holy shit_ …I've just been a target for a hit.”


	2. Chapter 2

“The ones who attacked you are confirmed to be from a group of hitmen that we suspect were hired by those involved in the kingpin’s ring,”

Daehyun notices there’s a hint of foreign aggravation in Officer Bang’s voice as he follows up with the man on yet another newly issued phone line. He shifts his position on the couch, listening to the officer let out an audible sigh.

“And, I’m afraid I have a little more bad news, but the kingpin we arrested—Woo Jiho— was released on an early bail, around a week ago.”

“But the information I had was solid,” Daehyun clenches his jaw, trying to conceal the chagrin in his voice.

“I’m not suggesting otherwise, Jung. The sting was only possible with the information you provided.” He can hear the harsh shuffling of papers in the background as the officer continues on.

“This is not an ideal situation of course. Nevertheless, it was a good thing that you secured your documents and other information regarding your informant movements. Besides being equipped with the intent on taking you out, they also seemed to be scouring your apartment for those same documents.”

“I'm sure they've left a mess. How would they have gotten my name and address?” This is the question Daehyun has been dying to know, and he tries to manage the inclination in his tone.

  


Officer Bang pauses, seeming to take note of it anyway.

“That is something we unfortunately do not know. It could be a slip somewhere along the line, a track you may have left uncovered—but even if it was out of your control I hope you know Officer Yoo and I would never have handed in your information willingly, it’s something we legally cannot disclose to the court.”

“Of course, thank you, for all you’re doing, Officer. I really appreciate it.”

“I think you should save the praise for Officer Yoo. He’s been working nonstop on the trial of the kingpin since we arrested him in the sting. ”

“I guess I will then. Officer Yoo is…?”

“That's right. Officer Yoo will be on leave in Uijeongbu due to an urgent family matter, so for the time being, I’ll be your main handler. ”

" Oh, I see. How long is going to be gone?"

"A month, give or take."

Daehyun desperately wants to ask more about the other man, but forces himself to stay indifferent as Officer Bang wraps up their conversation.

“I can’t talk to you any longer for now, but I will keep in touch with you as we monitor any other threats to you. Just hole up for now, okay? We’ll see if we need to take you off this case for good.”

There’s a click and Daehyun sighs against the stiff couch, throwing the phone to the other end.

He shuffles to the kitchen for a glass of water, still not familiar with the layout of his new residence. The department didn’t have an official procedure regarding witness protection for informants, especially since he didn’t even testify in the trial, but they had transported Daehyun shortly after the hit to an undisclosed flat in Incheon.

He double checks the presence of the unmarked police car at the edge of the street as he gulps down the liquid.

The officers in charge of staking out Daehyun’s flat, names of something along the lines of Seyong and Joonkyu, were relatively nice, efficient men who kept him safe for the past two weeks, but they talked amongst themselves more than with him, effectively keeping Daehyun out of the loop.

It was okay though, because it gave Daehyun more time to think about Officer Bang’s words. He needed to figure out how any of the kingpin’s cartel could’ve even known about him, much less the fact that he was the one who ratted them out to the police...

Daehyun finishes off the glass and pads towards his bedroom, down a hallway as bare as the rest of the furnishings in the house. The bed is as cold as it’s always been, he thinks as he pulls the covers up over himself.

It begins raining outside but his new bedroom is without windows, so he lets fanciful imaginings of rain droplets pelting the rooftop and the illusion of warm embraces lull him to sleep.

\---------

_The rain rings loudly outside the window of the dark room, but Daehyun only finds himself chanting one name._

_“Youngjae,”_

_Daehyun breathes into the crook of Youngjae’s neck as he thrusts upwards into the other’s tight heat, hands winding down narrow hips._

_He was enraptured with the way the other’s lips parted with soft pants, eyes lidded as he moves desperately above him. The sheets below them quaver with their movements, the indents of their sweat-slickened bodies imprinted within the folds._

_"Daehyun…you know I’d do anything for you, Daehyun…” the ethereal form of Youngjae seemed to plead as he pressed their bodies flush together._

_“I know…of course I know,”_

_Their bodies mold against each other with an increasing fervor, the heat pooling between their cores._

_“Youngjae, I love you,” Daehyun nestles his lips against Youngjae’s pulse and the other’s eyes flutter closed._

_Daehyun looks up to see Youngjae’s’s lips mouth a semblance of a response, but sound of the rain seems to drown out the words that follow._

\---------

Daehyun wakes up, breathy, to his own fingers languidly palming his member and he feels more than ashamed as he shifts against increasingly uncomfortable, suffocating sheets.

“Fuck,” he exhales in the darkness.

It’s only one in the morning, according to the clock on the bedside table. He pulls himself out of the bed with a groan and heads to the bathroom to take care of his problem. As he cups faucet water over parched lips he stares at the disheveled face in the mirror, questioning whether or not if he slides back into bed, attempting to fall asleep again in the stifling darkness of the room, he’ll only happen to mull over recent events for the rest of the night.

He was being rash, he supposes, because he hasn’t had a good night’s sleep lately.

For the past hour something has been gnawing at him within the confines of his gut with growing intensity so he slips out of bed and into his jet black hoodie, pulling the plush hood over his cropped hair. 

There is a slight chance he might be crawling right back into their den, easily being shot as soon as he steps into the familiar streets of Seoul.

But it’s been _two weeks_ , and if those same hitmen were pursuing him, they would’ve made their move already. He was—is— sick of holing up, waiting. 

With soft steps through the darkness of the house, he peers out the living room window again at the car stationed outside the front of his house and guides himself outside the other way through the back window, experiencing some feeling of déjà vu wash over him as he finds footing in the patch of grass behind the house. 

  


It’s forty minutes by train back to Seoul City from Incheon, and the same time back if he is quick enough. There would be more than a lot of questions for him, surely, if he doesn’t make it back by morning. But he needed to retrace his steps back to his source of information. His intuition told him so.

Looking through the ticket listings, there’s a moment where he is reminded of the dingy shack he had left in Busan as he scrolls past the name of the particular destination. He waves off the memories crawling up from the recesses of his mind and focuses on the incoming trains at the platform.

There are only a few people on the late-night train back to Seoul at this hour, mostly those eager to get home, like weary travelers from the airport. In another time he may have capitalized on their weariness, but he feels weary himself as the train rattles on, keeping his gaze on the speeding scenery outside the seat window and getting lost in his thoughts.

Somewhere along the line he thinks of Youngjae in Uijeongbu, and wishes he would’ve known what sort of family the young officer has left there. Perhaps kind parents—most likely proud of their son, an officer of justice. Had Daehyun crossed paths with Youngjae in a different way and under different circumstances, maybe things would have been different. 

\---------

No one is without a weakness—that’s why everyone susceptible to a con. It’s something Daehyun knows for sure.

  


That’s what he had reminded himself at least, when he first laid eyes on his two handlers on day one.

None of the officers handling his informant work were easy targets, per say, though Officer Bang Yongguk was logically the easier target of the two officers. He was a married man who cared deeply about his family, and though that was a chink in the officer’s armor in itself Daehyun had found he had inexplicable morals when families were involved.

It naturally led to Officer Yoo Youngjae being his target of convenience.

Daehyun of course, had tried to gain the younger officer’s trust and use him to his own advantage.

Daehyun had undergone many trust cons in the past, though he had been selective about which ones he wanted to undertake in the interest of their payout. Gaining trust took days, weeks, or even months depending on the target in question, and he was fortunate that none took more than a week at most. With the sheer amount of variability, he didn’t know how long it would take for Youngjae to trust him, but he enacted his plan anyway.

Along the way, part of the plan was to maybe woo him as well, for if not immune to anything, he had known the young officer would be lonely.

Daehyun thus had tried to play the part of the efficient, if not reformed, informant. He had used his resources to consistently snag arrests, and took every opportunity to talk and meet with the officer, and to his surprise he found that gradually, he just had to be himself around Youngjae.

  


But the officer was more than professional, and for months still Daehyun had unsuccessfully managed to break down the walls of the man.

Frustrated at the time, he had played agent provocateur, of which he would never admit to anyone, in instigating an investigation of prescription fraud that led to a close encounter with a pair of addicts. He was almost strangled to death in an abandoned house before his transmitter alerted the police to what was happening. His neck had sustained semi-severe rope burns in his gamble for the trust of the officer. 

  


Like he had foreseen, from that day forward, the officer did start treating him differently. 

And instead of being happy at the means of progression in his plan, Daehyun felt the exact opposite. It had disgusted him, because...strangely enough, he had felt it was _worthwhile_. And it was dangerous to think like that. 

  


Daehyun went to great lengths in hiding his shame by attempting to forfeit his plan entirely, avoiding the man as much as possible.

So when one night Youngjae showed up of his own accord at Daehyun’s doorstep with genuine concern despite breaking the protocol he always upheld, smiling at him unconditionally, Daehyun supposed he had found his very weakness. He had probably lost his own game then. 

\---------

Daehyun steps off the platform and steadily walks upwards out of the station, feeling somewhat comforted by the familiar streets and signs. Passing the bustle of cars and pedestrians on the main road he rounds the corner, where he can see past the shining neon of clubs the beginning of buildings leading what he knows to be unspoken negotiations on street corners and clandestine, quick transactions in the dark alleyways.

Determined to retrace his steps back to that night, he makes his way to his first source of drug news, a classy bar named “SecretTime” that, unbeknownst to many, doubled in the delivery of drugs and illegal escort services on the side. 

“Zinger,” he approaches a pretty woman with bleached blonde hair tending the end of the bar, who looks up at his bundled form and smiles.

“Daewon! I haven’t seen you around for a while. Don’t tell me you’ve already got yourself a girl—or a guy?” The woman asks flirtatiously, motioning him over.

“Been busy. You know you’ll always have a place in my heart though, noona. Know where I can get some ‘maek’ for tonight?” he uses the code name for cocaine casually, mustering up a charming smile as he props himself against the bar counter smoothly.

“Always the ‘maek’ and never me, huh? I guess that’s fine I suppose,” the blonde leans forward slightly to whisper into Daehyun’s ear. “You know, our supplier was hit by a sting a month ago that snagged the kingpin, and there hasn’t been a lot in stock. But recently I heard the cops let ‘em off . Zico and his gang sure have ways of rebounding, huh? Would you like something else instead? Weed? A girl to ease your cravings?” She pushes a glass of real _maekju_ towards Daehyun, fluttering her lashes.

Daehyun shakes his head at the glass. “Just want ‘maek’. You know where I can find these guys?”

“A little bird told me a few blocks up, side street. There should be a few guys of theirs there with what you need— I don’t think you’ll miss it.” She twirls the cords of his jacket and waves him off when another customer sidles up to the bar.

Nodding in thanks, Daehyun escorts himself out of the establishment, avoiding eye contact with the rest of its inhabitants. 

Daehyun wonders if Zinger and the rest of SecretTime could've been the ones to rat him out. It was unlikely as they would have a lot at stake in his presence, but then again, it was not completely unlikely.

  


Like Zinger had mentioned, it does not take him long to notice a warehouse coming into view, with two men stationed at the corner. Daehyun looks on from a distance, flattening himself against the fence as he surveys the men. The warehouse was a location he didn't encounter prior to the hit, and he definitely had to be cautious before he acted.

Near the corner, a dark-haired man is chortling quietly, slinging an arm over the shoulders of another male facing the away from Daehyun with a slightly shorter stature and much slimmer build.

Daehyun makes out a flash of caramel hair on the smaller man that doesn't look familiar to him at all, but before he can disregard the thought the man turns around, bickering with the other. He may have mistaken the hair, but he cannot mistake the face. His breath catches.

“ _…Youngjae?”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Super sorry for all those who wanted more of this little au story ;u; I try to combat my self-diagnosed ADD and slowness, a deadly combination.
> 
> I'm hoping this will be a 5 chaptered fic, and that the quality will not deteriorate as I go on. Thank you for bearing with me everyone!
> 
> /I HOPE I PASSED MY FINALS screeches but during this spring break i'll try to update more frequently yes


	3. Chapter 3

Daehyun finds his hands shaking around the base of the payphone. He doesn’t know how long he’s stood there—surely much longer than he can afford to—letting the shrill dial tone echo in his ears as he processes the information running through his head, the sight he’d seen fresh in his mind.

Vulnerability.

The key of any con is to latch onto vulnerability, but it leaves no room for the conman himself to be vulnerable. It’s always the other way around. Lies were his forte, and yet he didn’t see through Youngjae’s. Besides Youngjae no one else could’ve had access to Daehyun’s files. The signs were there, and of course they couldn’t have been fucking for nothing. He wouldn't know what to think if this whole time Youngjae was involved in the very drug ring he was helping fight; not including the hit on him previously that still had to be accounted for. 

What pains Daehyun the most is not the fact he was lied to and possibly ratted out by Youngjae himself, or that maybe the warmth he felt in those nights with the officer were just his own little illusions. It’s the fact that he hesitates, fingers reluctant in punching in the numbers. 

Since when did he stop looking out for his own interests?

All it would take is one phone call, an anonymous tip. He could rat out the officer, just like he did with countless others. The officer was supposed to be on family leave in Uijeongbu. That alone was violation enough. 

Daehyun forces himself to keep a level head. It's ironic, but he needs to collect himself if he wants to know the real truth. Daehyun scours his mind for a list of those who owe, or _could_ owe, him favors, glad he's made sure to keep track over the years. There’s a number rolling off the top of his head and he punches it in the keypad. 

“Hey, Insoo,” 

“Daewon? How the fuck did you get my number?”

“C’mon, buddy, don’t be like that. Can you do me a favor?”

“You in some trouble? I don’t want—”

“Don’t forget you owe me for that 'china white' you love so much. We can call it even if you get me a file-off,”

There’s a pause and Daehyun knows the mention of past heroin would get the junkie to agree in no time.

“…Fuck it then. You know the street. Dumpster behind the bar. And you better keep your word.”

“I knew I could count on you.” 

Daehyun’s smile drops from his face as he replaces the phone back onto its hook, relieved that he still has got some sort of charm left in him. 

"Two can play at this game," he hisses. "I'll find out what you're up to."

He’ll go back tomorrow night, to confirm if what he saw was true. And this time he was going to make sure that he had solid evidence and word from the officer himself before taking further action. Somewhere in his mind he harbors a hope that it wasn’t Youngjae he saw back there at the warehouse.

In the meantime,there's one more thing he has to do before getting back to Incheon, and he has to make quick work of it in order to catch the train back before they realize he’s missing.

\---------

__

_“Should you have come to me, of all people, like this, officer?”_

_Daehyun had blinked at the cop underneath him, vision focusing finally on the other when the haze had worn off. Youngjae had rebuffed his question in favor of fiddling with the white lily he had pinned to his uniform earlier in the day._

_“Junhong was only a rookie,”_

_“My respects. Were you two close…?”_

_“If anything, Yongguk was the one close to him; I guess that’s why he’s naming his own son after the kid.”_

_“ Sometimes… I wonder if it’s truly a necessary evil to exchange a life for keeping two grams worth of cocaine and one less dealer off the street,”_

_Youngjae had glanced at Daehyun then, looking for something near an answer._

_“It wouldn’t be in my place to say, would it?” Daehyun had been cautious with his words. ___

_“Even I can’t say he died for a good cause. He trusted me, and it was one shot I could’ve prevented,”_

_There was a pause._

_“It’s no different from me being on the wrong side, isn’t it?”_

_Daehyun hadn’t known what Youngjae meant by that. “Is it a good idea to tell me this,”_

_“Believe me. I want to trust you, though we both know I shouldn’t.” ___

_Youngjae had laughed solemnly as Daehyun breathed him in, his eyes filled with need._

_“This is the kind of thinking that gets one killed.”_

\---------  
Daehyun wakes up with a start, immediately reaching under the mattress and feeling for the familiar weight of gunmetal hidden there. It’s there and it strangely soothes him.

He was never privy with guns when he could talk his way out of anything, but as it’s been proven these days words weren’t enough to protect him anymore.

He examines the gun Insoo had dropped off for him last night. Its serial numbers are filed off as he promised, and it also seems that the junkie had done a surprisingly good job of keeping it clean of fingerprints. He’s set himself up for more liability with a gun like this, but in case things turn awry, he might have a chance.

Daehyun acts as normal as possible, shuffling the curtains a bit with bloodshot eyes as he partakes in a simple meal of cereal. Officer Bang calls once again on the dot with no new information, but it looks as if his excursion yesterday night went unnoticed.

He decided against mentioning anything related to Youngjae that might arouse suspicion. Maybe he couldn’t trust Officer Bang, either.

 

Daehyun soon finds himself watching as the clock strikes one again, having lied in wait for most of the day.

 

It’s a more practiced motion now, slipping out the back window, and he already finds himself clutching his ticket on the platform of the station.

Daehyun zips up his coat higher above his jaw. He has to devise a plan. If Youngjae is where he is, dealing drugs for Zico’s gang like yesterday, he can’t just walk up and reveal his face. He needs a new face that can perhaps serve as a distractor so he can find out more about the warehouse. Or better yet, a scout. Surely in the bar there must be someone in need of drugs, money, or a combination of the two. He makes a beeline for SecretTime, watching his steps carefully. In the meantime, he's also hoping to ask Zinger to divvy out more information on the gang and its recent movements.

“Back again tonight?” Zinger looks a little surprised. “Did you get the ‘maek’ you wanted?” 

“I did, and I like it. I was hoping you could tell me more about the suppliers. The guys who sold it wouldn’t tell me anything extra. So secretive, don’t you think?” 

She’s piqued with interest. “What can I get for you?”

“I was actually thinking of a glass of real _maekju_ tonight, and maybe stay for a little chat, is all.”

“And I’ll have a glass of red wine,” a voice adds from behind with a small chuckle.

Before Daehyun can begin to feel irked by the newcomer in the conversation, he freezes upon recognizing the voice.The man who slips in the seat next to him is the same guy who was with Youngjae yesterday.

It would be more suspicious if he just up and left. So he calms his nerves and sips at his own drink as Zinger takes the other’s order. They don’t seem to know each other. The man disregards Daehyun and doesn’t make eye contact with him once, preferring to take up the bartender’s attention, much to his relief. He only stops when he pulls out a phone, excusing himself.

Daehyun sets the glass down with his tip, and makes his way through the ebb and flow of people cautiously to follow. The man disappears into the small hallway leading out the back.

As soon as Daehyun enters he is spun around, meeting face to face with the dark-haired man he’s trying to pursue. Up close he has intense eyes, as dark as the rest of his features and his clothing. 

“Trying to pull a fast one on me?” the perpetrator smirks, hand effectively wrenching Daehyun in a headlock, pushing him forward in the small hallway. 

Daehyun realizes he’s locked into the small bathroom with this man.

“I’d prefer better places to do this, but I suppose this’ll have to do.” 

"Please, let me go. Whatever it is that you want..." Daehyun is contemplating his chances at overpowering the man if he has a gun on him too, when the man uses his other arm to flash a badge in his face.

"Relax. You can try your tactics, but they won't work on me."

"You're a narc?" Daehyun asks incredulously. He had heard of narcs, but he mentally kicks himself for not having found the identity of the undercover cop in his area of operation, having him so close yet not knowing a thing of his existence. Who knows how long he's been keeping an eye on him. "So you've been tailing me."

"Well, it's someone's job to make sure informants give reliable information and stay in line," the narc’s lips quirks up slightly, and it gives Daehyun the impression of a hyena. Daehyun lets out a breath as he feels the arm around his throat loosen.

"It's Kim, Informant Jung,"

He furrows his brow but the intense gaze doesn't let up.

“What makes you so sure I’ll trust you on that?" Daehyun brushes his hands near his coat, watching the other carefully. It seems that his gun has gone unnoticed.

“I’m risking blowing my cover to get you in the loop—shit, Yoo better be right about trusting _you_ ,”

Youngjae was working with this man."Yoo? What do you know about him?" 

“Eager now, aren't we? I don’t particularly trust your lot, but we’re all involved now. There’s an entrance to a station located just off the main street of the _noraebang_ district. I want you to meet me there tomorrow night if you want answers.”

The narc fiddles with the collar of his jacket, revealing a thin earpiece. “You got all that, Up-ah?” Whoever’s on the opposite side must’ve offered an affirmative.

“You better speak to no one of this. I’ve got eyes on you, if you happen to try anything to jeopardize this mission,”

Daehyun nods bemusedly. It's either he's walking into another trap, or he one step closer to the truth. Either way, he'd see Youngjae soon. The other man unlocks the door, stepping out first. He turns to Daehyun one more time.

"Things aren't always what they seem, Jung. I'm sure you of all people would know that."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I struggled a lot for the continuation of this fic, but after heavy research I realized how I wanted the plot to play out finally. Maybe. ;; sorry it's short
> 
> As a side note, I made some super minor edits to the previous chapters because I didn't particularly like the way I wrote it at the time. Then again I may never be fully satisfied with it! If you re-read you may spot the differences. But it's nothing major~
> 
> I was gonna try to do a triple threat update for all my fics before finals week, but...I don't think that's happening lol After finals I'm hoping to finish this once and for all.

**Author's Note:**

> **drop a dime**
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
>  ** _(idiomatic, slang)_** To make a phone call, usually calling the police to report another's activities. 
> 
>  
> 
> Informant au to quell the longing I have for BAP since their hiatus. This may have turned out a bit more cryptic than I would have liked. Also, first fic on here, please enjoy!


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